


You're Fae?

by orphan_account



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Elf Sportacus (LazyTown), Fae & Fairies, Fae Glanni Glæpur, Gen, Small Blood Mention, Unfinished but practically finished anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:20:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22118527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Íþróttaálfurinns' crystal tells him someone is in trouble in the early hours of the morning. The last person he was expecting to need his help was Glanni Glæpur, much less what he needed help with.
Relationships: Glanni Glæpur & Íþróttaálfurinn
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	You're Fae?

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this two or three years ago while in my American history class and I guess I never finished it??
> 
> I'm not active in this fandom anymore but I figured I should post this anyway since it's practically done and it's not that bad
> 
> Since I'm not active in the fandom anymore idk what's going on there so if you don't understand who these characters are or the trope then I guess it's just out dated ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

It was a chilly day, leading to a bitterly freezing night. The air was chilled to the point of hypothermia.

And Íþróttaálfurinn's crystal was going off.

Who? _Who_ could be in trouble at _this_ hour? He checked each of the children, he checked the Mayor, Bessie, officer Obtuse, the mail man, nothing. No one he could find was in trouble. Who else could possibly need his help at two in the morning?

Focusing, he reached into his crystal, urging it to help him, help him see the danger he could not reach alone. Focused, he saw it. Dirty beige carpets, stained and worn. A familiar pale, shaking hand reaching into view, weakly dragging a ragid cloth toward themselves.

 _Glanni_.

The criminal had been scarce as of recently, only being seen in rumor. What had he gotten himself into this time?

Rushing to the other, letting his crystal guide him, he let his mind wander. Was he okay? What had happened to him while he was in hiding? Would the hero make it on time to save him? His hairs stood on end in the frozen air, the temperature dipping considerably under freezing. His Breath coming out in strained, white puffs.

He came upon a shady hotel, not terrible, yet lacking the kind, open look that inns usually try and maintain. He entered the building in a rush, not bothering to wait for an employee. There may not _be_ an employee on staff at this hour. It was too early for anyone to be up, let alone _working_.

Running up the stairs, he followed his crystals pull, guiding him along the dimly lit halls. When the crystal halted its pull, he stilled.

Looking around, he spotted a door to his left, nearly hidden against the faded floral wall paper. Knocking twice, he heard a faint grunt from the inside of the room.

_Was that Glanni?_

"Glæpur? Is that you?" Knocking again, he could hear the creaking of the wooden floors then a loud thud, followed but a pained hiss.

 _No time for politeness._ turning the door knob, he let himself into the others temporary home. Scanning the room, he saw trash and clothes littered across the room. When his eyes finally fell on the man, he froze, not believing what his eyes were telling him.

There on the floor laid Glanni, curled in on himself, obvious pain written in every feature on him. Dressed in only a pair of black shorts and a single sock, he had his back facing the ceiling, skin sickly pale, limbs wrapped around his torso. And there, on his upper back, lay two, long inflamed bulges between his shoulder blades.

Rushing forward, the hero slammed the door shut behind him. He fell to his knees next to the villain, checking his pulse and temperature. "Glanni? Can you hear me? Say something!" Panic rushed through him, if he was correct on what was happening he wasn't sure whether to be more worried or relieved.

An annoyed grunt and a quiet complaint of _stop touching me_ could be faintly heard over his own heart beat. Íþróttaálfurinn let out a sigh he hadn't realized he was holding in, relieved that the other man was still conscious.

He cautiously ran a callused finger along one of the irritated welts along Glanni's back, causing the other to hiss in pain.

"Sorry, sorry!" He pulled back and began questioning him, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but... You're fae?"

"Wow, who could have guessed the guy growing wings out of his back was a faerie?!" Glanni spat out sarcastically, pulling his arms around himself tighter, he brought the rag he was clutching to his face and wiped off the sweat that had caked on his forehead.

Analyzing the growths, Íþróttaálfurinn realized that the wings weren't strong enough to break through the skin alone. " _uh-oh..."_

"What do you mean _uh-oh_?"

"Well, you see, your skin over your wings is too thick for your them to break through. To get them out they'll... Have to cut them open." 

This was all too much for Glanni for one night. This room was too hot, his back felt like it was on fire, that stupid yellow elf found his new hideout and was touching him and insisting on cutting open his back for his stupid wings. He sighed deeply, growling out "Just... Get it over with..." He glanced at the elf from the corner of his eye to find him frantically looking about the room. "If you're looking for a knife, there's one in my boot."

Reaching forwards and snatching the shoe, he turned it over. Multiple little objects fell out of it, including a slick black knife. Quickly picking up the blade, he opened it, bringing it up to one of the red welts on his back. 

"This will probably hurt..." He hadn't had to help a fae release their wings in years, but this time he didn't have help. All he had to use was an old switchblade and a dirty towel.

He pushed the blade in, breaking the skin with a shallow slit. He kept a free hand on Glanni's shoulder to keep the other from hurting himself while his wings were freed. Once the cut reached the end of the inflamed pink skin, he had made a six inch long insision.

"Done yet?" Glanni rasped out, cursing under his breath, vision swimming from the pain in his back.

"With one. I still have to cut the second one." He brought the blade to the next welt, cutting in quickly and evenly to not extend the criminals pain.

Once they were cut, the red angry colour slowly shifted back to the skins normal pale, although keeping a few pink splotches.

Íþróttaálfurinn rubbed small circles between the mans shoudlers, avoiding the slits he had made. 

"I'm done now." 

"I just want to sleep..." Glanni whined, stretching out on the floor.

"After your wings come out. They could get hurt if they stay in for too long."

"Let them die, they're just gonna get ripped out again anyway." He retorted, already half asleep on the floor.

Ripped out? _Again?_

Standing, Íþróttaálfurinn hurried to the bathroom to get a damp cloth to wipe away the blood from Glanni's back. When he reentered the main room, Glanni had moved from the floor to the bed, his face against the mattress, softly snoring.

Íþróttaálfurinn approached the bed quietly, sitting on the edge beside the other mans back. Upon closer inspection he saw that slick pink wings had begun to poke through the cuts. He brought the warm damp towel up and began to wipe the blood away from Glanni's back, causing the other to jolt from his sleep.

"What the f- what are you doing?" Glanni spoke, his voice coming out strained from sleep.

Continuing to clean away the blood, Íþróttaálfurinn responded "Helping."

Glanni let out a huff and pushed his face back into the cold, hard bed, trying to go back to sleep.

Glanni's words kept ringing through the hero's head, taunting him... 

_Let them die, they're just gonna get ripped out again anyway..._

"Glanni?"

"Sleeping." Voice muffled in the mattress, he curled tighter together, his breathing strained.

The elf could see that the man was shivering, barely able to conceal his body heat due to the lack of clothing or blankets.

_Like a child._

The hero sighed as the thought crossed his mind. Glanni really /was/ just a big child, even when someone was just trying to help him get better. 

Looking about the room, Íþróttaálfurinn spotted a ragid, faded comforter haphazardly shoved in the closet. It was yellowed with age and covered in dust, but it would keep him warm. He pulled it out and draped it over the criminal, careful to keep it off his upper back.

He gently tugged at one of the wings, trying to free them without waking Glanni. The wings were soft yet sterdy, a black boarder outlining a faded pink. Once he had freed them halfway, he could see the pattern that reminded him of a monarch butterfly, thin black lines danced around the soft pastel pink of the middle, creating a beautiful pattern, alike to a painting.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this feel free to kudos and/or comment
> 
> If you for some reason think "oh I likes this person's writing I wonder if there's more" then Behold! There is more lazytown written by me! But be warned that there are two edgy fics in my lists, but the rest is entirely fluff!  
> Over the years I did end up deleting one and orphaning another one, but there's still 14 works up there :)  
> I also write marvel if that's your thing, those fics under the pseudo Goodbye Moonlight.  
> Also, if you want to feel free to write an ending to this, just make me a cocreator or inspired fic


End file.
